The Colorado climber and climbing historian Pat Ament first met a young Charlie Fowler in 1977, around the time of his (Fowler’s) legendary free solo of the Direct North Buttress (19 pitches; 5.11) of Middle Cathedral in Yosemite. Ament and Fowler climbed together often over the next eight or nine years on the sandstone of Eldorado Springs Canyon and the granite of Boulder Canyon and Lumpy Ridge, and shared a trip to England and Wales in the mid-1980s when Ament was a guest speaker at the National British Mountaineering Conference.

A Climber’s Climber

By Pat Ament 

One could say Charlie Fowler’s life was brief, by any standard. Yet his was a full life and intensely absorbed in climbing. It was not an existence marked by major difficulties, with sadness or disappointments. One senses no agony. It appeared almost “casual” the way he moved through life. From one adventure to the next, he never seemed distressed. Even later in his life when he lost toes to frostbite his wry comment was, “Toes are overrated.” He made the adjustment and continued on … and upward. 

Charlie Fowler was no crazy man, as some speculated when hearing of his free solo of the Direct North Buttress of Middle Cathedral, in Yosemite, in 1977. As a person and as a climber, he had a remarkable sensibility and control. A short time prior to that legendary solo, he had made the second lead of David Breashears’ bold Perilous Journey (5.11 X), 150 feet of vertical, unprotected sandstone, at the Mickey Mouse Wall, above Eldorado Springs Canyon. In 1978, amid the rapidly growing masses of undistinguished climbers, Charlie also calmly free soloed the Diamond, on Longs Peak, yet another soaring realm of granite on which most would not want to imagine themselves without a rope. In 1979, Charlie onsight-led N.E.D., a strenuous 5.12 overhang in Eldorado, signaling a new era and spirit of boldness. His reputation grew, and his productivity increased. 

To name Charlie’s more significant climbs would be a nearly endless recital. I found it a bit amusing when a reporter phoned me from Denver recently and asked me to name Charlie’s 10 best climbs. It fills one with dismay even to scan Charlie’s own diary list. So many amazing climbs warrant a special recognition, from the Walker Spur, Grand Jorasses, in the Alps in 1979, and a solo that year of The Shroud on the Grand Jorasses, to the North Face of the Matterhorn, in Switzerland, from the Diagonal Direct on Longs, in 1980, to Stoned Voyage, a wild linkage in Black Canyon, in the late 1980s, to a solo of the Direct North Face of the Eiger, in 1992, and then the first hammerless ascent of El Capitan’s sheer and formidable The Shield, in 1993, followed by adventures to the enormous walls of Patagonia. There were numerous expeditions, to Tibet, Nepal, and China, even Everest in 2002 via the South Col route. That is a very abbreviated collection, yet those ascents alone would establish him as one of our most notable climbers. As Jeff Lowe said at a memorial for Charlie in Telluride, Charlie was “A climber’s climber.” I will add, Charlie had an extraordinary grasp of character and style. That was, perhaps above all, for me, his magic. 

He was human, though. When he did fall, which was rare, as I saw him do once, as he followed the crux of the Crack of Fear, above Estes Park, he had no excuses and no apologies. He didn’t get down on himself or go into a mood. He had only praise for the talents of others. That small slip of a foot from an almost microscopic foothold was no more than a learning step toward ultimate mastery, toward becoming one of climbing’s great “adepts,” a view of his life of which the full panorama he seemed at times to sense. 

His life, made short, was not a short life. Although by all appearances focused on little other than climbing, Charlie was a lad of humor, of balance, of friendship, of depth. He loved people. He loved food. He never really settled down to a normal profession, and while he may have had some hidden, restless indecision about his life, he lived by the principles of frugality and creativity, what one might call a simple life of selling photos, guiding, teaching climbing, filmmaking, writing a bit, even finding sponsorship on occasion. The respect people had for him worldwide paid for any number of adventures. It remains, though, a mystery how he ever found the money for so many climbing trips around the world and so many expeditions. Even in 1984 when I brought him with me to England for two weeks, he somehow scrounged plane fare. There was no money beyond that, in England, and I recall discussing with him the cost of a roll of film. He had to get by on virtually nothing. 

Life is a place and a time to acquire knowledge. Who could measure what Charlie knew? Who could have the roughest glimpse of the number of fresh, immediate, and exhilarating experiences that were infused in his tight, strong frame? Like the great protagonists in Shakespeare, Charlie was destined to have one great weakness. We never saw it. Or was it love? While thinking with so much appreciation for his companion, Christine, did he fail to notice a danger? Or, together, had the two come to achieve perfection? If so, that’s always when souls are taken. 

To be swept away in an avalanche in Tibet, in mid-life, would seem they went away still in the dawn of life. Charlie was beginning to become seriously interested in writing and art, in his last years, and were he to look now from beyond the veil I imagine he might offer some wry or possibly poetic line, such as Wordsworth’s “Bliss was it, in that dawn to be alive.” Or maybe Wordsworth was more a poet of my generation. Charlie came along 10 years after my peak, so perhaps it would be a line by Pound, to fit one of those awe-inspiring rock monoliths Charlie climbed in Patagonia, “In the gloom, the gold gathers the light against it … ” 

Farewell, our Charlie. 

The Colorado climber and climbing historian Pat Ament first met a young Charlie Fowler in 1977, around the time of his (Fowler’s) legendary free solo of the Direct North Buttress (19 pitches; 5.11) of Middle Cathedral in Yosemite. Ament and Fowler climbed together often over the next eight or nine years on the sandstone of Eldorado Springs Canyon and the granite of Boulder Canyon and Lumpy Ridge, and shared a trip to England and Wales in the mid-1980s when Ament was a guest speaker at the National British Mountaineering Conference.

The Colorado climber and climbing historian Pat Ament first met a young Charlie Fowler in 1977, around the time of his (Fowler’s) legendary free solo of the Direct North Buttress (19 pitches; 5.11) of Middle Cathedral in Yosemite. Ament and Fowler climbed together often over the next eight or nine years on the sandstone of Eldorado Springs Canyon and the granite of Boulder Canyon and Lumpy Ridge, and shared a trip to England and Wales in the mid-1980s when Ament was a guest speaker at the National British Mountaineering Conference.